The Curse of Friday 13th
by Luinlothana
Summary: There is one date that comes with a curse of its own. And it's out to get Vicki Nelson. And those around her. Or at least it seems so.


Disclaimer: The idea that the holder of the intellectual property rights to a work would waste their time writing fanfiction instead of creating stories for profit or charity is rather ridiculous. And being a fan, the creator of the fanfiction would likely be the last person to try to deprive the original author of the work of their profit that would likely encourage them to continue writing.

Summary: There is one date that comes with a curse of its own. And it's out to get Vicki Nelson. And those around her. Or at least it seems so.

My gratitude goes to Marlana for betareading the story.

The curse of Friday 13th

"_And on a Friday fell all this misfortune"_

Geoffrey Chaucer_, Canterbury Tales_

Vicki arrived at work in a bad mood.

After the morning greeted her with cramps and stains on her bed sheets, courtesy of that time of a month, it would be a wonder if she was in a good one. Things didn't get any better when it turned out she overslept. Or that it was raining cats and dogs outside.

When she finally got into the building, she had no illusions that it just wasn't her day. As a matter of fact, she was elaborating on that conclusion, cursing the world, all the way up the stairs. All the same, despite never being much of an optimist she did hope she had seen the worst the day had to offer.

She was proven wrong as soon as she rounded the corner. In front of the door she discovered a basket. With three dust bunnies inside. Three _breathing_ dust bunnies.

The only reason the air did not turn blue at her reaction was that blue is, generally, considered a calming colour and therefore could come in handy under the circumstances. Another thing her creative vocabulary did _not_ manage to achieve was resolving the situation. On the contrary, at the sound of her voice one of the dust bunnies uncurled, opened baby blue eyes and responded with something that probably was intended to be a bark but came across as what one could easily associate with a hiccupping mouse.

"There better be a good reason for this," she threatened the dust bunnies that by now all managed to wake.

She strode to the door and tried to open it. Unsuccessfully. Which was rather odd, considering that Coreen was supposed to already be there for an hour.

Speaking of whom...

With a speed that might make one suspect that Henry's reflexes were rubbing off on her, she reached for her phone, dialling with one hand and unlocking the door with the other. She couldn't help but notice that all three alleged dust bunnies were watching her with curiosity.

Just great.

Just as the key turned in the lock and she was pushing the door to go inside the call connected.

"Coreen, I have no idea where you are but you have some explaining to do."

"Vicki? Is that you?"

"Who were you expecting? Santa asking if you've been nice?"

"Right." The girl sniffed and Vicki suddenly started having a really bad feeling about this all. "I'm really sorry, Vicki. I know I should have called but I completely forgot. I didn't mean to worry you."

Now, while Vicki wasn't exactly worried a moment ago, she was quickly changing the fact.

"What happened, Coreen?"

"I had new shoes on today. I liked them because they had those great plaid-like heels."

"Believe it or not, but I was not asking about your wardrobe choices."

"I know. But it's the shoes' fault. You see, I never noticed they had such smooth soles. And with the rain today, I wanted to run to the streetcar..."

Now Vicki had a _really_ bad feeling.

"Yes?"

"And I slipped. The shoes got really slippery on the sidewalk. Thankfully someone called an ambulance when I wasn't able to get up."

Vicki verbally refreshed her memory of a few more creative curses.

"I didn't _mean _to slip, Vicki," the girl said apologetically.

"I know. I'm not angry with you. Where are you now?"

"In hospital. I'm waiting for the X-ray results. The doctor said there is a slight chance my ankle is just badly sprained, not broken."

_Just great._ "That's good news. I'll keep my fingers crossed for you."

"Thanks." Another sniff.

"And by the way. Would you know what I'm talking about if I asked you if you knew something about the puppies?"

"Puppies?" the Goth seemed honestly surprised. "As in little dogs? Do we have some new case?"

"Never mind, Coreen. Don't worry about it."

"Okay, if you say so. I need to go now. I think the doctor is coming back."

"Right. Let me know when you have the result."

"I will."

"And take a few days off. If the weather keeps up, I don't want you walking on slippery sidewalks."

"You got it. Bye!"

"Bye, Coreen."

The call ended, leaving Vicki none the wiser when it came to the three furballs staring at her from their basket in the doorway. Eventually, deciding that having unidentified furballs there would hardly make for an encouraging way to welcome her clients, she dragged the basket inside and put it in the corner of her office. The three canines residing inside seemed, to Vicki's great dismay, to consider the action some sort of entertainment.

III

Vicki took a deep breath, valiantly refusing to acknowledge that her day was dangerously close to dissolving into chaos. So far, she managed to discourage the Nasty Fluffs (TM) from leaving their basket, though it was not without sacrificing the chicken sandwich that she originally intended to have for lunch. On the slightly brighter (but only classifying as such because she had it on very good authority that too much brightness could be, in fact, fatal) side, as she was appeasing the whining Fluffs, she found a folded note, slightly chewed on one corner as apparently one of the trio got bored waiting for her.

Sighing as she massaged the bridge of her nose, she let herself hope for a second that whatever brought the Fluffs' presence on her, was in fact an easily remedied case of tragic misunderstanding. And it would definitely be _tragic_ if whoever was behind it didn't get on with it and relieve her of the Fluff supervising duty as soon as possible. As soon as her eyes settled on the note, she was suddenly reminded of what was generally said about hope and snowballs in hell.

Then she provided the Fluffs with comparative review of obscenities one could learn while working in law enforcement for a given number of years. They failed to be impressed. Which would have possibly earned them a threat of being force-fed the note if a) they didn't prove willing enough to attempt it previously, eliminating the threat element and b) it wasn't the only shred of evidence she had for that could lead her to the person responsible.

Speaking of which, if whoever decided to do that revealed in the sense of false anonymity, they would soon find out why they should have never tried to pull something like that on the person whose record of solved cases in the homicide department still remained unbeaten (or even neared). With a silent growl that, to her dismay, earned her curious looks from the Fluffs of Horror, she looked at the note once again.

_Dear Miss Nelson,_

_Allow me to leave you this small gift to express my appreciation for lending your admirable talents and providing me with your assistance in a moment of need. I trust you will find this small token of my gratitude satisfying. I understand that a cross of a Labrador and a Husky should result in them growing into smart and energetic companions, therefore ideally matching you. With gratitude,_

_XXX_

That's what the signature was - "XXX". Not to mention, no matter how nicely put, it was a clear evidence that the Fluffs were, in fact, mutts. Not that she really cared one way or another but crossbreeds would probably be harder to re-distribute, should she fail to find...

She gritted her teeth. Of course she would find whoever was responsible. She was good. She was damn good and whoever was responsible would soon be very, very sorry. She just needed to add all the facts together and they won't even know what hit them.

After a deep, calming breath, she analysed everything again. First, the motif. Which was getting her nowhere because she couldn't imagine what would anyone have to gain from dumping the Fluffs From Hell on her. Aside from the obvious element of being rid of the problem of three mutts. Driving her crazy? Possible, but there the list of suspects extended from everyone she's ever busted to everyone she'd ever interrog- _interviewed_ to everyone she'd ever worked with...

She reached for her phone. Luckily, she didn't have to wait too long.

"What is it this time, Vic? I'm in the middle of securing a scene."

"Gee, great to hear you too, Mike. Just wanted to ask if you knew anything about the dogs."

"You are interrupting me while I'm in the field to ask about my proficiency in handling pets? Have you been drinking, Vic?"

"When was the last time you've seen me drink this early in the day? I might not be on the force but I'm still at work, you know."

"What did you expect me to think after that question? Wait, don't tell me, the gates of the hell broke and you have Cerberus on the loose."

She was mildly impressed. "Mr. Don't-Want-Anything-To-Do-With-Supernatural knows about Cerberus? Now that's something you don't hear every day."

"Watched _Harry Potter_ last time Molly asked me to stay with Dylan." He paused. "No, Dave, I'm not discussing _Harry Potter_ in the middle of a double homicide scene. Ever heard of call privacy? I'll be done in a minute and take a look at that mallet." He sighed. "Sorry, Vic, I really need to go. _Is_ there some hellhound that I need to worry about?"

Vicki wisely decided that this wasn't the best time to inform him of the plot of Henry's latest book that came out just this week or the picture from page six that currently occupied her desk drawer.

"No hellhounds on the loose, Mike. And incidentally, the gates to _Tartarus_ were _guarded_ by Cerberus so he wouldn't need to break them as such, _had_ he decided to make a run for it. But I was asking about the regular household-type dogs."

"If you say so. Something very urgent?"

This conversation was going nowhere fast. Mike might be a good actor while interviewing suspects but he had yet to fake confusion on her without her knowing.

"Not really. Go back to your scene, I'll call you later. Bye!"

"Right. Bye, Vic."

As soon as the call ended, she returned to her musings.

III

The possible list of suspects grew exponentially when, finally, she decided that it should include not only those with a grudge big enough to want to compromise her sanity but also potential misguided bona fide puppy givers with the assumption the note was genuine. Of course, while the latter was a touch suspect given the anonymity of the note, the former group was never particularly prone to subtlety.

She sighed heavily and realised one of the Fluffs was moving restlessly in the basket, which could potentially lead to a situation she wanted even less to do with if she had any choice. But that meant she should probably take the little horde outside. She looked around.

Typically, she recalled, people were advised, when they were in need of a makeshift collar and leash for some uncooperative canine fugitive, to make use of their belt. One critical look at the furballs made it however quite clear that this method's only chance of success was if she bound them in the middle rather than by the neck. And even better, all three at once.

Muttering darkly about the indescribable suffering she wished on whoever first came up with such a useless method, she went to search for something else. _Anything_ else, given that Second Fluff joined the unrest. Definitely not a good sign.

Finally the solution came in the form of abandoned roll of silvery ribbon on her assistant's desk that must have been there for quite a few months now. The last she'd seen anything resembling the ribbon was on the Christmas gift Coreen left on her desk. Still, given the situation, Vicki was ready to praise the girl to high heavens for her foresight (or, as the case might have been, mess on the desk, but she really wasn't picky at the moment).

Quickly assessing the length of the ribbon, the PI managed to turn half of it into three makeshift collars (which absolutely were _nothing_ like decorative postcard ribbons, no matter what it looked like – one just had to make do with what was at hand sometimes). The other half, being a bit too short to treat the Fluffs individually, was promptly transformed into a silvery troika leash. Which looked absolutely ridiculous but would serve its purpose, thank you very much.

Then she tried to encourage the little monsters to move. Lively as they seemed a moment ago, that simple action made them apparently believe they were professional transatlantic ship anchors for all the movement they made.

"Oh, c'mon. I really don't have time for this," she informed the Fluffs with a glare. Unfortunately, they seemed woefully unimpressed. "We're going, you little fleabags, whether you like it or not. The last thing I want is a puddle in the middle of my office."

She could swear the look of blue wide-eyed innocence from said little fleabags was faked. She sighed.

Two minutes later, she was struggling with balancing the basket of Constantly Wandering Little Monsters (probably TM as well) as she walked down the stairs. Whatever purpose the basket was made for, she observed, it definitely wasn't for carrying anything around.

It wasn't until she opened the door downstairs that she realised her umbrella was still in her office.

III

It was a very wet and even more frustrated Vicki Nelson that managed to finally halt a cab willing to take the Fluffs and their basket on board (unfortunately, offering insinuations as to the parentage to all the drivers who _weren't_ willing, offered only a temporary relief). She was just trying to manoeuvre with the basket that was once again filled with the Annoying Little Mutts when the cab driver got out and took it from her.

"I'll do it, Ma'am. That's too heavy for a woman to carry." He puffed his chest in a gesture of chivalry nobody would fall for, blissfully oblivious of the fiery rage his words unleashed. Or at least would have, if the rain didn't discourage the presence of anything even remotely fiery. Cold rage, on the other hand, seemed quite fitting at the moment.

On the upside, the driver at least waited for Vicki to run upstairs for her umbrella and knew the location of the closest pet shop. The downside was, of course, that he kept the meter running while she did and then took the longest possible route there. It was somehow educational that one could add such a detour to such a short distance without actually going in circles.

III

As she entered the shop, the driver stumbling along, under her well-earned glare, with the Fluffs' basket, she heard something from the shop assistant that suspiciously resembled a snicker. Dismissing the previous vict- _the driver_, she turned to look murderously at the young offender. Immediately, he staggered three steps back, paling a little.

Which was, of course, fine by her, as long as he eventually helped her. If he thought she really was about to kill him, chances were he would seek help from someone who would instruct him exactly _why_ he should stay out of her way when she was having a bad day.

Instead of making any calls though, the guy finally collected himself and attempted a smile.

"May I help you?" he asked in the epitome of please-don't-hurt-me voice. Which would probably qualify him as the first sentient being she encountered today.

III

In the end, shopping for the Fluffs went with a surprising ease. Of course, the whole affair turned out to be a bit more costly than she initially anticipated, between a set of collars, in different colours that would hopefully help with telling the little monsters apart, two bowls, that elicited a debate about the size that would be appropriate for three furballs their size, and something called a training pad which, the seller assured, should prevent the risk of any puddles in her office.

She decided to take the young man's word for it, seeing how he still seemed to cowe- _show enough respect_ not to lie to her about it.

After that, of course, came the matter of puppy food. Honestly, she was tempted to simply take a few of the cheapest cans and adopt the attitude of 'if they want to go hungry, it's their choice' but a short debate on the topic of canine health, strain on the joints during the growth and risks of puppies developing gastric problems in reaction to the inappropriate food (this time she actually perused a chapter in one of the books in the shop to make sure she wasn't being fooled), caused her to change the strategy slightly. Well, that, and a glance at the content of the cheap can that informed of it containing everything save, possibly, for actual nutrients.

After all, while three Annoying Fluffs being dropped in her lap was definitely irritating, the last thing she needed was three sick, whining Fluffs because of inappropriate food. A short debate added a variety of cans to the purchase because, honestly, if she needed to pay more, she could at least try to find something they would actually eat.

After a moment of thought, the book she looked through earlier was bought as well, quickly joined by a small collection of dog toys. Not that she wanted to spoil the Fluffs or anything. Far from it, actually. They were definitely too annoying to encourage and besides, as soon as she found who gave them to her, they would be going back with complimentary epithets from her.

She would have entertained herself with the thought of what she'd do with the puppy donor once she got her hands on them, but unfortunately the initial dozen of ideas that crossed her mind would render them incapable of taking back the little horrors, so eventually she needed to let go of that line of thought.

No, the toys were simply a way of assuring that the Fluffs would keep themselves entertained without involving her long enough for her to find the idiot who thought that landing her with them would not be detrimental for his of hers continued good health.

III

After she was done with the shopping, Vicki looked around taking in everything she was surrounded with. Four large plastic bags full of her shopping, the still dripping wet umbrella, that damned un-manoeuvrable basket she brought the little wolf-wannabes in and finally the aforementioned wannabes themselves, wearing their respective colours on collars and leashes.

She suddenly wondered where the supernatural was when she needed it. She wouldn't, for instance, mind if everything just teleported to her office without her involvement. Come to think about it, it seemed like that was the only _sensible_ way of getting it all there at the moment.

"Ma'am?" the voice of the attendant brought her back from her musings. "Would you like me to call a cab for you? I have a number for a company that doesn't mind taking animals."

"That would be nice," Vicki nodded trying not to show her relief. Then, almost as an afterthought she added "Thank you."

"You're welcome, ma'am." He smiled first at her, then, for whatever reason, at the Fluffs. "I added some treats for the little fellows, compliments from the shop. Especially for good customers."

She nodded in reply, trying to decide herself if it was a gesture of gratitude or acknowledgment of the young man's insanity. Probably the latter. After all he _did_ keep calling the Fluffs 'little fellows'. And talking with them as he they were trying the different collars on. Actually talking _with_ not _to_ them and taking their barks and expressions for answers. If that wasn't an indicator, she didn't know what was.

But at least he called that cab.

III

It was with significant relief that Vicki returned to her office, bringing the Fluffs and the basket inside before coming downstairs for the bags.

As soon as she stepped back into the office, she glared at the little monsters that were currently in the process of tumbling out of their basket with the apparent intention of exploring the place. Really, if they wanted to wander off, couldn't they have done it _before_ she'd found them in the morning?

Sighing, she sat heavily in her chair, observing the annoying creatures for a moment before dragging herself up once again to prepare the food and water bowls for them. After that, she would be ready to start the hunt for whoever showed the extremely poor judgement resulting in the Fluffs finding their way to her.

Her office, she noticed, already smelled of wet dogs.

III

While the toys did, as expected, occupy the Fluffs to some extent, Vicki very quickly discovered a serious flaw in the plan.

_Squeak!_

Whoever invented squeaky toys, she decided, deserved a painful death.

_Squeak!_

Make that a slow _and_ painful death.

_Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!_

Skinning alive, for example, seemed appropriate.

_Squeak! Squeak!_

By means of a spoon.

_Squeak!_

A blunt spoon.

_Squeak! Woof! Squeak!_

Before being dipped in salt.

_SQUEAK!_

Even if it _did_ seem like letting them off extremely easy.

_Squeak!_

III

She was about to set out on the hunt for the mysterious dog donor when she reached into her pocket and retrieved the ribbons she equipped the Fluffs with before going out. That, in turn, made her think of the origin of the items and she realised something.

Coreen still had not called her back. Even though she promised to do so as soon as she knew something.

Now, Vicki wasn't perhaps a medical expert of any kind but she _did_ know that she spent more time on her little pet shop odyssey than it should take to inform the girl about the diagnosis. As a matter of fact, it was more time than would be required for Coreen to be informed about the diagnosis, be patched up and return home. And still, her phone remained silent.

Just to be sure, she checked if there wasn't anything on the office voicemail and took her cell out confirming that yes, it was still charged and the voice was on. The fact that the girl's last confirmed location was the hospital did nothing to ease her worry. The number of things that could have happened was making her blood run cold.

Shushing the Fluffs (who stopped their commotion for the briefest moment to look at her curiously and then returned to playing without caring about her opinion on the matter), she dialled her assistant's number once again, her mind already providing increasingly disturbing explanations of the girl's silence.

"'lo?" the familiar voice answered after the third ring.

Vicki exhaled.

"Word of advice, Coreen. A homicide cop will _always_ assume the worst when someone goes incommunicado. And before you say anything, there is no such thing as a _former_ cop," Vicki shot in response, only as she was finishing her speech realising that something was off in the girl's voice. "Coreen?"

"Yeah, got it. I'm sorry, Vicki. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"It's fine, Coreen. Just tell me what is it. What didn't you mean?" She was trying her best to calmly lead the girl through the situation but the fact that she knew how far the voice she just heard was from what her assistant usually sounded like didn't exactly make it easy. What _could_ have happened? Was the injury worse than they were led to believe previously?

"I know I promised to call you. And I meant to, honestly. It's just that..." she broke off hearing the squeak from Vicki's side of the line, courtesy of the Red Fluff (the collars did wonders when it came to telling the furry culprits apart). "What was _that_?"

"That? Just an act of cruelty to animals waiting to happen. Nothing to worry about. You were saying?"

"Act of...?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know. You still haven't told me how your ankle is."

"Oh. That."

"Yes, that. I seem to recall having my assistant injured and while my priorities might seem _circumstantially_ _adjustable_ sometimes, I'd still like to know how she is."

"Right," the Goth agreed noncommittally.

"Well?"

"You see, the thing is..." The girl took an audible breath. And didn't continue.

"Coreen, are you hyperventilating over the phone? Just tell me."

"Okay. But you're going to be mad."

"Mad? Why would you think that I would be..." Vicki considered it for a second and made a quick assessment of her temper. "I promise I won't be if you tell me whatever it is that you think will make me mad in the next two minutes. One in a lifetime chance."

"Uhm," The not-so-perky Goth conceded. "You see... It's... How much time off can you give me without firing me?"

"Ah," now Vicki was starting to get the gist of the problem. Or at least she hoped she was. "How much time do you need?"

"You aren't going to like it."

"And you think I _like_ your stalling? You have only a minute left of the immunity, just so you know. So you'd better get to the point. The clock is ticking."

"Uh," the Goth told her eloquently. " You see... Ouch." There was a moment of silence after that and Vicki couldn't help but frown.

"What was that, Coreen? Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Well, mostly. Considering the circumstances. I just tried to shift a bit and turned the wrong way."

"Good. The 'mostly alright' part in any case." Vicki decided she used up the patience limit for the month, which was bad news for her assistant and _really_ bad news for the Fluffs. "_Now_, if you recall, you were supposed to tell me how you were and how long you needed off. What's more, you were supposed to tell me that some time ago already."

"Oops. Does that mean you'll get angry if I tell you now?"

"Not as angry as I will be if you stall for a moment longer."

"Right. Well, the lucky part is, it's a clean break and the ligaments aren't completely torn so I won't need surgery and metal pins inserted in my ankle," Coreen tried for her usual perkiness and failed so miserably that Vicki winced. Well, _almost_ winced, should anyone ask about it.

Still, nothing stopped her from colourfully expressing her opinion about the current state of affairs.

"I'm sorry, Vicki," her assistant's voice could possibly be classified as whisper but it was hard to tell if it was intended as such.

"That wasn't at you. Just about the situation in general."

"Ah," some semblance of audibility returned to the girl's voice. "I did wonder about the pineapple and fishhook part. Didn't seem quite anatomically possible. Though the insinuation about the cross-species relationships was very imaginative."

"You still haven't told me all of it."

"Oh, yeah," instantly the Goth sounded deflated again. "Thing is, I'm wearing this huge cast, I'm hardly allowed to move about, I mean, if it's not necessary, I can go to bathroom and such even if with that thing it will take some figuring out, I guess..."

"Coreen, focus, okay?"

"Right. I got crutches, of course, but I can hardly move in those. And my hands feel as if they're about to fall off and I didn't even make it to the main entrance to call a taxi. I have no idea how I'm going to even handle walking the one flight of stairs to my apartment, let alone shopping for basic groceries..."

This time Vicki limited herself to soundlessly mouthing the most fitting commentary before she spoke.

"Just text me what you need. I'll take care of that."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, what friends are for, right?"

"Well, if those friends happen to also be my employers who are about to find out it will be ten weeks before I can even start physical therapy and who knows how long _that_ will take..."

"Ten weeks?"

"Ten weeks in the cast. Including the first four in the huge, heavy one." Coreen waited for a moment until Vicki stopped muttering. "Was _that_ at me?"

"Nah, still just in general. Are you sure about those ten weeks? From what I recall from all the contusions I saw, wearing a cast this long can damage the muscles."

"Yeah, I asked about it too. Apparently, there might be some atrophy but I should recover and starting physical therapy too soon could do serious, permanent damage."

"Right."

"So?" the Goth asked anxiously and for the life of her Vicki couldn't figure out what the girl was referring to.

"So what?"

"Am I fired? I mean, even I don't have the faintest idea when I'd be able to come back to work."

Twice the PI started opening her mouth to answer before closing it again. Finally her thoughts settled on the possible solution.

"Something wrong with your hands?"

"What?"

"Seems to me like you can do the usual research job from your bed. Sure, I'll have a bit more work with the files here in the office, but if I keep you updated, you could handle the calls when I'm not in the office as well. Shouldn't be too hard to have them redirected to you after, say, the second ring."

"You mean it?"

"Unless you have something else planned for the time you're stuck at home. I hear catching up with soaps can be pretty thrilling."

"Ugh. _NO_! I mean, no, thanks, I think I can combine some work with the soaps easily enough."

"Good to hear. Now get yourself home and start healing quickly. I certainly won't be upset if you manage to recover quicker than that doctor predicted."

"Got it. I still need to get a cab though."

"Right. When you do, mention casually how some drivers have the worst luck sometimes. I mean, some decide to drive someone around or charge too much and the next thing they know, they are bleeding out near the rail track."

"Um, _what_?"

"Oh, nothing. Just a case I worked with Mike three years ago. Happened all of once and wasn't well known. But for some reason if you mention it, throw in a few details and seem confident about them, suddenly they are afraid to put a toe out of line. Wouldn't want anyone to think they can prey on my injured assistant."

Finally, the girl laughed. "Sure. And what if they call the police as soon as I leave the car?"

"You mean what if the call comes in and Mike is sent information that some Goth girl described a long-solved case and asked to be driven to the address where the assistant of one of the people who had worked it lives?"

"Well, when you put it like that..."

"I thought you'd see the light. Now, get yourself home and rest. Don't forget about sending me the grocery list unless you don't want to eat anything today."

"Got it."

"And call me as soon as you're home. I want to be sure you got there safely."

"I will. Thanks."

"Anytime, Coreen. Bye!"

"Bye, Vicki."

The call disconnected and Vicki took off her glasses and massaged the bridge of her nose. She could distinctly feel a headache coming. Then her sight rested on the desk calendar, sticking out from the various papers scattered around.

In retrospect, between demon marks, supernatural cases and a friendship with a vampire, she should have probably known better than to dismiss Friday 13th as a silly superstition.

She groaned.

III

As much as she wished to be able to finally get started on the Fluff mystery, especially in light of the fact that Yellow Fluff commandeered a pencil for merciless mauling (and where it found one within its reach still remained a mystery in Vicki's eyes), she still had to deal with the issue at hand.

With a sigh, she dialled Mike's number again while trying to yank the pencil out of the Fluff's teeth and substitute it with one of the recently bought toys. The little horror seemed convinced it was some sort of a game. Finally her former partner picked up.

"Hey, Vic. I was just starting to hope you forgot you wanted to torment me."

"Very funny, Mike. You done with the scene yet?"

"Gee, I didn't realise I needed to hurry doing my job so I could sneak out and help you out."

"The day I see you doing a hurried job on a scene, I'll be too worried about the world ending to want anything from you."

"Whatever you say, Vicki. So what is it this time that you need me to drop everything and do for you?"

"Not really _drop everything_, Mike. But it's nice to know you're willing should the need arise."

"Go to hell, Vic."

"I think I pass. 'Fraid I wouldn't care for the company. Not that I didn't get a few personal invites."

"Yeah, I guess they need someone to look up to when it comes to torturing souls. Now what's the case?"

"Who said there was a case? Honestly, Mike."

"Yeah, sure. You called me, during my shift, _twice_, despite knowing that I have a fresh case on my hands just for a social call. What gives, Vicki?"

"Your faith in people is astounding, Mike."

"Learned it from a former partner of mine. What do you want?"

"You automatically assume that I want something from you. Now, where are the ideals that would make the valiant officer of the law give a poor, helpless girl a hand?"

"If you tell me you are supposed to be that girl, I'm dragging you to detox."

"We both know that if you tried, I'd land you in ICU long before you managed to do it. And since you were asking so nicely, no, I wasn't talking about myself."

"Well, that's a relief. Wouldn't want to deal with you going insane. More than usual, that is."

"Watch it, Mike."

"So, do I know that helpless girl who is not your case and I'm about to be burdened with?"

"Oh, I don't know. Perky Goth, often seen hanging about my office, is on first name basis with you, ring any bells?"

"Something wrong with Coreen?"

"Broke her ankle as she was coming to work this morning. Now she's stuck at home and needs someone to do her shopping for her. I would, of course, but see, there is this little problem of me not having a car to get it all to her..."

"You were always _so_ good at subtlety, Vic."

"Glad you volunteered. I would have never thought to bother you otherwise. I'll forward the list to you as soon as we hang up."

"Of course you will." She could almost hear him rolling his eyes. "Why is it exactly that you can't bother your little prince about being your errand boy?"

"You mean aside from the fact that by the time he wakes Coreen would have been left with nothing for dinner and that I doubt he ever had to shop for food in his life?"

There was a quiet groan on the other side of the line. "Right. I don't suppose it occurred to you at any point that I might have some plans for today?"

"Not like it will take you that long. But don't let me interrupt your work. With a new scene I'm sure you have a lot to do. Talk to you later, okay?"

"Sure, Vic. Later."

She ended the call with some amount of relief. At least _something_ worked the way it should today.

III

"Are you sure you are allergic to animals and haven't misplaced any puppies? No? Really? Well, if you are sure. Incidentally, have you at any point informed your wife where you got the photos of her and her lover? No, just asking to make sure of something. Okay, thanks. Sorry to bother you. Bye!"

Vicki sighed. Her desperation to identify the guilty party in the whole affair was directly proportional with the number of dead ends she encountered. And that was quite a few dead ends by now. At this rate the little monsters will have time to peacefully grow up by the time she had any success.

A yip from the basket drew her attention and she turned to look as she was setting down the phone. It seemed Blue and Red Fluff got into a fight over a toy. Understandable to an extent as it seemed that this one at least wasn't a squeaky monstrosity. A rare gem among dog toys, she had to imagine.

She contemplated briefly separating the two and giving one a different toy but that sounded suspiciously like getting involved so in the end she decided against it. A moment later the victorious Red Fluff dragged the toy to the far end of the basket, mauled it for a while and seemed to fall asleep in the process.

The PI rolled her eyes.

III

Talking with a client with the Fluffs present turned out to be yet another challenge. For whatever reason, the little monsters took it upon themselves to personally greet the man, stare at him unnervingly the entire time and produce as many loud noises as, well, _dogly_, possible every time anything of substance was spoken.

As if that wasn't enough, her whole office seemed to be now thoroughly permeated with the wet dog scent, mixed with just enough of the dog food smell to give a passable impression of a dog house.

All in all it was a wonder the guy didn't give up and leave with intention to use the competition some ten minutes into the whole experience. And she still had a nagging suspicion that the only reason he hadn't was that the competition might not be very receptive to a case of someone's dead grandmother visiting them as a ghost, insisting that the version of her will that was used was not the final one.

III

Her patience lasted for a while but after a few hours she found herself reaching for her cell again.

A moment later, she heard the voice of her assistant. "Hi, Vicki. Do you need anything?"

"Funny. I was about to ask you that. With _you_ being the injured one and all."

"Hey, I'm managing so far so it's not _that_ bad," she lowered her voice. "What did you do to Mike, though?"

"What did I _what_? Why would I do anything to him?"

"Well, he came here a bit earlier, said you asked him to bring me the food."

"Oh, yes, I asked him to drop in and bring you groceries. How very shocking."

"He was _scaring my neighbours_!"

"He what?" Now that was definitely something new.

"Well, he brought me everything, like you said. And even gave me a box of chocolates. And _Get Well Soon_ card. Offered to help me with the dinner so I wouldn't need to move too much."

"He was trying to be nice, I suppose," Vicki offered half-heartedly, dimly recalling that Mike eventually admitted to learning how to cook from his grandma and taking over after the few times she attempted to prepare something more complicated than toast for them to eat.

"It was a two course meal," Coreen offered.

"Then his alternative most likely was going back to the station and completing the paperwork."

"Well, whatever it was, I'm not complaining. It was all actually pretty good."

Vicki nodded to herself silently admitting that Grandma Celluci definitely knew what she was doing teaching her grandson.

"So what was it about scaring the neighbours? It might be just me, but I don't view the fact that someone can cook as something particularly terrifying."

"Ah, yes, that. That was after the dinner. The two guys next door started playing some music. Not something awful or anything, mind."

"And?" the PI couldn't help the feeling that she was fishing.

"And, well, I turned a bit on the bed and I might have sort of winced when I did. And before I knew what was happening, Mike went to scold them. Showing them the badge and all. I haven't even heard them talk since, and the walls aren't terribly thick, you know."

Vicki tried to imagine the expressions on Coreen's neighbours' faces when not five minutes after they turned the music on they had the police show up with a warning. Amusing as the mental image was, her thoughts were quickly drawn to something more serious.

"Coreen, what was that about you wincing just because of shifting a bit? Didn't you get any painkillers?"

She couldn't be sure, but what she heard on the other side of the line sounded suspiciously like an exasperated sigh.

"I did. Only I didn't want to take them before dinner. And besides, they make me kind of sleepy so it was better to wait till Mike was gone."

"You shouldn't be doing that when you're in pain, Coreen."

"I'll keep that in mind, _Mum_."

"Oh, c'mon. I'm not that bad."

"If you say so, Vicki. Whatever you say."

"Did you take the drugs now, though?"

"Yeah, don't worry. And I was actually thinking of turning in early. After that dose, I can barely keep my eyes open. Maybe I should ask the doctor for something else later."

"Or maybe you had a hard day and once you're out of pain you feel the impact of that."

"Yeah," there was a stifled yawn on the other side.

"I won't keep you from your sleep. Just promise me you'll call if you need anything, okay."

"Sure, Vicki."

"Sweet dreams, Coreen."

"Thanks. Bye, Vicki."

The call disconnected before she could ask if the girl would need anything tomorrow. Then again, she did promise she would call. And something told her that Mike would check on the injured Goth anyway. Quite possibly it was the instinct of a detective-turned-PI that led her to that conclusion. Not like it was obvious or anything, after all.

III

She was desperately trying to focus on transcribing the recording, ignoring the Fluffs in the basket. Occasionally she sent them a glare for not dissolving into thin air the way they apparently appeared. So far, she was able to limit the glares to one every eight sentences which probably wasn't bad, all things considered.

She was forced to break the routine when, as she was still on the fifth sentence, she became aware of triple soprano growling from the Fluffs' basket. She glanced in their direction in mild annoyance before slowly looking to the door, where she discovered the reason for the commotion. It should probably be noted that in that instant Henry lost a few points for looking mildly amused with the whole situation.

"Good evening, Vicki," he greeted as if he hadn't just set the Fluffs off, ruining whatever the chance she had of not developing a headache after everything that happened today.

"Maybe for you," she scowled at the vampire prince in response.

"I'm sorry you feel that way. Do I even want to know?" he gestured in the general direction of the basket.

"No, you probably don't. I didn't."

"I see," he offered noncommittally.

"Do you? That probably makes you ahead of me." To his credit, he didn't wince at that.

III

All in all, the fact that she could glare a vampire into silence was probably something to be proud of. And a good proof that in all those centuries Henry did, in fact, develop a survival instinct of some merit. Problem was, it also left them at an impasse.

They regarded each other for a few long minutes before the silence was broken by a now-familiar squeak. Henry winced. Apparently vampire hearing really _was_ sensitive. She idly wondered what his reaction would be to those silent whistles she saw at the shop. Personally, she never believed in buying anything if she couldn't verify if it worked but there might be a way to find that out after all.

"So, Vicki," Henry took the squeaky toy from the Fluff and, radiating the air of authority, substituted it with a silent one that was abandoned in a corner, "Would you mind telling me where those came from?"

"What I _really_ wouldn't mind is _knowing _the answer to that."

"Ah. Then how did you come to have your _canine entourage_?"

"Do I look like I have any answers?" She really didn't intent to have her voice rise with every word but somehow it did all the same. "All I wanted was to have a peaceful day! No dogs left on my doorstep, no anonymous notes and definitely no accidents of people close to me. Is this really too much to ask?"

"I wouldn't say so, no. Why don't you sit back, take a breath and tell me what exactly you were referring to. I'll make you tea," he added entreatingly as if he expected there was no possible way she could refuse an offer like that.

Unfortunately, after the day she had, the perspective of unwinding and having a nice cup of tea made the notion suspiciously close to truth.

III

"If you like, I can go to Coreen's apartment tomorrow evening and ask if I could show her results to a friend of mine who specialises in sport injuries."

"You have a friend doctor specialising in sport injuries? How come?"

"I've known her for a few years now. We met at a club when she was in her final year of med school. We grew a bit closer when she needed someone after a really nasty breakup with her boyfriend."

"Nasty breakup? Oh, come on, Henry. You have to realise how teen-drama that sounds."

"If you say so. But I think finding out that someone you trusted filmed you in the shower and posted the film on the Internet just before your final exams tends to be a bit upsetting."

For a moment Vicki was speechless, staring at him. "Please tell me that she reported that and the idiot got what he deserved."

"The last thing she wanted was to make it public and draw even more attention to the incident. I helped her write to the site administrator to take the video down and comforted her enough to get her through the exams. I'm glad she made it through them, she is a wonderful doctor."

"Are you telling me you let that guy get away with it?"

"I'm telling you Lauren didn't report the incident. That her ex was later arrested for indecent exposure as he was propositioning to his neighbour's Rottweiler is a completely different matter. And, might I add, the Rottweiler wasn't amused either."

She snorted. "Never pick on someone with friends capable of mind control, huh?"

"Persuasion."

"Whatever. So if you got the guy like that, I assume Lauren knows about you?""

"She doesn't. I don't share my secret with just anyone, Vicki. She simply wanted to put the whole affair behind her. Let's just say that it didn't fit very well with the understanding of justice I was raised with."

"If you say so. As for sharing your secret, I distinctly remember you volunteering it about five minutes into our first conversation."

"Second. The first one was in that night club."

"Fine. First _proper_ conversation."

"Still, it doesn't matter. At no point did I think of you as _just_ anyone."

"Right. So, back to the topic, do you think Lauren will help Coreen get better faster?"

"At the very least she will review the diagnosis and the treatment. It certainly won't hurt to get a second opinion." He turned away for a moment when the click of the kettle signalled the water had boiled.

"That's for sure. Thanks, Henry."

"I do what I can," he smiled at her, placing the cup on her desk.

Perhaps, Vicki wondered, the day would go better from this point. Would be about time. She took a sip from the cup and almost allowed herself to relax a bit before the realisation hit. She put the cup on the desk with a thud, grimacing as some of the hot liquid spilled on her hand.

"You bastard!"

From all the reactions she was expecting to get, having Henry look at her with mild curiosity definitely wasn't most desirable.

"Technically speaking, you are correct. But if it took you this long to figure it out, I might need to admit to overestimating your knowledge as a historian."

"Don't start with me. That's raspberry tea!"

He lifted an eyebrow. "Indeed. What of it?"

"I drink raspberry tea when I'm on my... never mind."

"Yes, you do. What's the problem then?"

Vicki stared at him incredulously, weighting the option of throwing something at him versus shaking him harshly.

"_What's the problem?_" she mimicked. "The problem is that you gave me raspberry tea!"

"So?"

"That's an invasion of my privacy."

"Vicki, you should know by now that I would never invade your privacy. But you should also know that some things will be obvious to me whether I try to notice them or not. What would you expect me to do?"

"For starters? You could try _not_ noticing them."

"And how do you propose I do that? Do you want me to hold my breath every time I'm with you? Even I need to breathe, you know."

"You don't need to sniff around when you do," she grumbled.

"I am not. Think about it for a moment, Vicki. You are asking a vampire not to notice the scent of blood. I can no more look at you without noticing the look of your face or the colour of your hair."

"You could at least try."

"There is no trying there. I can't help the way I perceive my surroundings any more than you can choose what you... hear." He hesitated for a second before finishing the sentence and she couldn't help a suspicion that he was about to make a comparison to her eyesight instead. Her brow creased as she sent him a glare intended to tell him what exactly she thought about exploring the weaknesses of those accusing you.

"Is that so?" she asked almost sarcastically, her glare never diminishing.

"Yes, it is. I can choose not to pay attention to certain things but it doesn't mean I don't register them all the same. And, incidentally, you drink _only_ raspberry tea _under certain circumstances_, so I hardly had a choice about what to make for you."

"Keep it up, and that tea will be on a collision trajectory with your face."

He sighed. "Victoria, I apologise if the fact I know such things makes you uncomfortable but I honestly have no choice about noticing them. I know you are a strong and capable woman and never let such circumstances affect you in any outward way and I would never even imply otherwise. If you don't feel comfortable with me being around when I am aware of such things, I can leave."

Vicki's head snapped up, her anger forgotten for a moment. The threat of him leaving her temporarily overrode everything else. If she was to be fair, she knew for a long time just how sensitive Henry's senses were. It wasn't exactly rational to assume that there would be just this one thing to which they would not apply. And besides, it would be even more stupid to throw Henry out over this after she took every other aspect of him being a vampire in stride. Not to mention, his presence was the first relatively nice thing happening to her today and she wasn't about to give it up.

She took another sip from her cup. "The only reason I'm letting you get away with this is because the tea you made is just right. Just so we're clear on that point."

He slowly smiled. "Of course, Vicki."

III

Seeing how Vicki was busy sipping her tea, Henry busied himself with the puppies. Observing them for a little while, he reached into his pocket and dug out a handkerchief.

"What do you think you're doing? If you want to gag them, I'd try using something smaller. Three of 'something smaller', actually," Vicki's question made him turn to face her for a moment.

"Why would I do that?' he asked in bewilderment. 'I simply want to put it in their basket."

"Oh, checking their destructive potential then?"

"Getting them accustomed to my scent. Can't have them growling at me all the time, can I?"

"Whatever. You _do_ know that you won't be getting that back once you give it to them, right?"

"I think I will survive the loss," he smirked at her before making the puppies happy joint owners of the item.

Then he sauntered to her desk and took the partly chewed note. He brought it to his face, sniffing for a second. Then he started chuckling.

"Henry? What's going on?"

"Only you," the vampire said with mild amusement, "Only you, Vicki, could do something like tell a creature whose sole purpose of existence is pleasing others that you wanted something and then forget about it."

"What? I never told..."

"Emanuel."

"Emanuel what? Why would he have anything to do with it?"

"Judging by the scent, he is the one that left you the note. And, consequently, the dogs."

"Why would he do something as ridiculous as that?"

"You told him you wanted a dog. His whole survival is dependent on giving women what they want. You do the math."

"I didn't even _mean_ it then. 'Sides, isn't that giving women what they want _in bed_?"

"I seriously doubt he limits the possibilities of location to beds, but that's beside the point. He is, of course, fulfilling the needs of the women he meets. _Up to and including_ sex. Seeing how, when you trapped him, you made it more than clear that you were not interested in anything physical, he would have been all the more compelled to find something else to do for you."

"This doesn't make sense. He is an incubus. Incubi are about sex. Have always been about sex. Even _I_ know that."

"Vicki, he would have never appeared if all those women wanted was sex with someone other than their husbands. They were good looking and rather well-off. Even if they ever were desperate, they could have certainly afforded a professional male escort."

"But this is just crazy. I say no to sex with an incubus so, a few months later, he gives me puppies? Am I the only one thinking there is something seriously wrong with that picture?"

"At the risk of delving too deep into the fine details, you were the one who told him you wanted a dog. You could have chosen anything. You could have said you wanted a drink. Or something to wear. Or any other commonplace thing."

"Just, please, tell me you know where to find him so I can give him the damned fleabags back."

"Why would _I_ know how to find him?"

"You two were pretty chatty when the case was over."

"And I've never seen him again after that. You might have better luck tracing the last surviving woman, though I'm not sure that would do any good. Incubi are generally unable to commit to terms of a human relationship and it was either that or her looking for a new man, in which case his presence would be in the way."

"Oh, just brilliant. I don't suppose you want a dog? I have a few to spare."

"You know, for whatever reason I don't think my lifestyle allows for having one."

She sighed, "At least it was worth a try."

III

"So," Vicki spoke after she finished the tea. "Do you figure we have any way of locating Emanuel again?"

"You could try placing an ad telling him you are looking for him. Or asking for a woman currently in contact with an incubus to come forward."

"Very funny."

"There isn't really much you can do, Vicki. You made it perfectly clear to him that you didn't appreciate his visits. I might add that you also told him you'd rather have a dog than intimate relations with an incubus." She glared. "Personally, I confess I'm rather relieved that you didn't give in to the temptation and turned him down."

"Oh, I can imagine. You are a bit _territorial_ after all."

"You seem strangely inclined to point out the obvious today, Vicki. But I have to say that the fact that, however nice disposition Emanuel might have, the incubi earned their reputation somehow also plays some part in my view of the matter."

"We're going by popular opinion now? Then please, _do_ tell me how many virgins have you lured into your castle and drained tonight?" She started having a bad feeling when she saw the grin that appeared on his face.

"Oh, I assure you, I verified rather thoroughly that neither of the twins was a virgin, even if they did seem quite _drained_ when we said our goodbyes earlier." Apparently the bad feeling _was_ justified. "As for any castles, if you recall, I didn't stay around for the inheritance. And on a side note, that part is a bad movie cliché anyway. Now, when it comes to any luring going on, they seemed quite proficient at it themselves. That thing Sylvia did with her tongue..."

Vicki groaned. "Spare me the details, please."

"Well, you asked. And you don't like it when people keep secrets from you."

"I wouldn't mind in this case. Really." She felt an odd urge to start squirming under his gaze as he kept grinning at her.

"If you say so. But should you change your mind, do tell me. You might enjoy some details about what I can do..."

"Henry!"

"After all, it would be entirely understandable if your reluctance to accept my invitations came from the fact that few could ever _properly satisfy_ you..."

"If you don't shut up right now, I swear..."

"Ah, but if you recall, it was you who started the topic. I was perfectly willing to discuss your new pets and their origin."

"Good. Let's go back to discussing that, shall we?"

"As my lady wishes."

"Right. So what were you saying about finding Emanuel?"

"Basically that you don't have much chance to do that, unless it's by accident. He doesn't have any documentation for you to track down and I doubt an incubus leaves a phone number."

"I was hoping for some good news, you know."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, back in the day giving a lady you courted a basket of puppies was actually considered a sweet, welcome gesture."

"What kind of demented idiot would consider being given a basketful of dogs a nice gesture?"

"One that liked animals and had servants to take care of them?"

"Well, all my faithful, animal-loving servants are unfortunately on a leave."

"Yes, I gathered that. Still, you seem to be handling the situation pretty well."

"Pretty well? Those little monsters have been driving me crazy and giving me a headache practically since I found them."

"Oh, I'm sure they require some getting used to. But they could be good, helpful friends when they grow up."

"Yeah, here is a cheerful thought. Maybe I'll train them as guide dogs. They could be taking turns not to get too bored. How about that?"

"Actually, I meant that animals can be good companions and are known to decrease stress."

"I don't know. Those three seem to actually be inducing it. And besides, have you seen the size of my apartment? No matter if they take after their mum or dad, they are going to grow quite a bit. Where do you imagine I find room to keep them all?"

"Yes, that is a valid concern," Henry nodded making Vicki growl, eliciting curious looks from the sleepy Fluffs. How the Terrible Trio managed to fall asleep with Henry around she didn't want to know. What she did know, was that the fact made them perfect material for the worst guard dogs in history.

"Are you saying all the other ones were not valid?"

"I'm saying nothing of the sort."

"Good."

"What I _am_ saying is that this concern shows that you actually considered taking the dogs in and raising them."

"You're asking for it, you know that?"

"Whatever you say, Vicki. But now that we established you won't bring about the demise of your..." he waved a hand in the direction of the basket.

"Fluffs," Vicki supplied before she realised what she was doing.

"_Fluffs_?" Henry seemed momentarily surprised.

"Yeah, Red, Yellow and Blue Fluff. Needed to tell them apart somehow. Never claimed I was good with animal names."

"If you say so. Will be a mouthful though if you ever need to call them."

"I didn't plan that far ahead."

"I see. As I was saying though, now that we have established you won't murder the _Fluffs_," the way he pronounced it, Vicki could almost taste the mockery in the air, "in their sleep, we can think about the next step. You should consider which puppy you'd like to keep and how to find a good home for the other two."

"I have a feeling you are assuming I will be keeping one."

"I couldn't help but notice that _the Fluffs_," How come every time he repeated it, it sounded more ridiculous? "aren't drinking from a plastic takeaway container but a proper bowl. Looks like stoneware, too."

"Didn't want them overturning it and turning my office into a swamp."

"And there is a bag in the corner with at least a two week supply of dog food."

"Didn't know which one they liked and they eat more than you'd think. Besides, some of that was buy one get one free."

"If you say so. Who wouldn't be tempted by having a free can of dog food they have absolutely no use for? May I also point out there is a book about raising dogs on your desk?"

"Wanted to know how to keep them from destroying the office today."

"Not to mention the sizeable collection of toys scattered around _the Fluffs_."

"Can you imagine what would happen if they got bored?"

As far as Vicki was concerned, Henry had absolutely no reason to start chuckling at that point. But he did anyway.

III

"I guess I should have known better than think I'll manage to do anything constructive today," Vicki sighed, rummaging her handbag, hoping that the fact she was curled ever so slightly in her chair wouldn't be too obvious until the painkillers kicked in. That is, if she found them first.

"Why would that be?" Henry looked up from teasing the Fluffs with a rubber stick/bone/thing toy. Figures they would try to drag her only potential ally to their side.

"The date," she grumbled to explain. She was sure when she last checked the bottle of pills wasn't _empty_.

"What about it?"

"Didn't you notice? Well, I guess you've been up for just a few hours," she allowed. After all, it took her a while to notice as well and the clues _were_ rather obvious. "It's Friday. The thirteenth."

"Ah," he looked mildly surprised. "To be honest, I never took you to be superstitious."

"_Superstitious_?" she repeated in disbelief. "You're a vampire."

"I'm afraid I fail to see the relevance."

"Shouldn't you know better than mock someone's belief in less than scientific occurrences?"

"I don't recall mocking you. If you took it that way, I apologise. But there is at least one Friday 13th every year. And in all that time I had the opportunity to observe that good and bad luck has absolutely no connection to any particular date."

"Says you," she scowled.

"Well, if you have any other source that was able to verify that for almost five centuries, you are free to turn to them."

"Oh, great, pull your age and experience on me, why don't you?" Vicki's muttering under her breath somehow only led him to smirk.

"Besides, I don't recall the whole Friday 13th institution being brought up until the 19th century. In any case, it wasn't a belief as widespread as it seems to be today and I never encountered it. Before that, I admit, Friday itself had some unfavourable connotations but that was derived directly from the Christian tradition, leading to the consensus that it should not be considered a day of happiness."

"So what you're saying, is that the whole thing is rubbish?"

"Well, to be completely truthful, number thirteen itself does have some bad fame in numerology as it is the one that distorts the ideal number which is thought to be twelve. It does not translate into any practical power unless you consider trying some rituals, which I definitely do not recommend under _any_ circumstances." He thought for a moment. "I believe it was also the thirteenth Roman legion that crossed Rubicon under Caesar's command but I'm not sure if we can consider it unfortunate. While his actions did lead to his assassination, they also led to the creation of the empire that shaped the western civilisation as we know it." He smirked. "And I, for one, don't recall any mention of him having at any point trouble with a surplus of dogs in his care."

She snorted. "Oh, shut it. You can't blame me for being a tad paranoid with what my life looks like lately. Just last week I had to deal with a woman cheating on her husband with the ghost of her dead fiancé," she paused. "And I still don't see how it worked when they couldn't even touch each other."

"Oh, I admit, touch can be very important to give one satisfaction," he slid his fingers down her side, in a gentle caress. "I suppose they needed to compensate in some ways, taking the matter into their own hands, so to speak. Isn't it lucky that not all of us face such problems?" he asked her hair in a seductive whisper while nuzzling it.

"Cut it out, Henry. You of all people should know that sex is off the menu for me for the next couple of days."

Instead of following her suggestion, he turned to face her, his fingers now moving to her aching abdomen.

"What an interesting choice of words to use, Victoria. After all, you must realise that not to everyone certain afflictions would be considered a discouragement. On the contrary, I see the potential there."

"What?" In her bewilderment she went over the conversation again in her mind and grimaced. "Oh, come on! That's simply gross."

"Such a _human_ view of the matter, Victoria. Could you honestly say that you would view tasting the most exquisite of delicacies off the one you desire as such an appalling perspective?"

Vicki honestly hoped that her look carried all the enthusiasm of an aching human who had a horrible day and was in no mood for come-ons from a vampire. "You forgot the part where said person is hurting all over and is futilely trying to combat a persisting headache."

"What better way then to counteract that than provide her with some physical pleasure?"

Later, Vicki would blame it on the general exhaustion after the day she had that, after the initial groan, she went to counter that with the argument of "The Fluffs would be watching. That's just creepy."

He held her gaze in a manner that she registered strangely as both worrying and promising. "Yes, no point in corrupting the innocent, I suppose. We will need to wait for them to fall asleep. But I'll hold you to that."

That, apparently, was his way of concluding the topic. Somehow, speechlessness seemed the only available reaction as he grinned at her right then.

III

Vicki did her very best ignoring any implications of the previous conversation that eventually dissolved into silence. Possibly the act of completing the transcript served that purpose to some extent but, unfortunately, while completing it seemed an impossibly lengthy task while the Fluffs kept interfering, now it didn't take more than half an hour.

"All finished?" she heard Henry ask practically as soon as she typed down the last sentence. Blasted vampire hearing.

"More or less. Why?"

"I thought you might use some help getting _the Fluffs_ to your apartment." There was that annoying tone again.

"That actually sounded surprisingly sensible. Are you feeling alright?"

"Perfectly, I assure you. Well?" he prompted.

"Well, since you offered..."

He grinned. Then, before she could properly register any movement, the Terrible Trio together with all their toys and accessories was packed into the basket. She blinked.

"That was fast," she remarked only to be answered with his grin. "Are you trying to shock them into accepting you?"

"They don't seem particularly shocked. And they seem much more unsettled by the sharpness of your moves than the speed of mine."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Whatever. Figures they wouldn't show any gratitude for taking them in and feeding them. I could have left them on the doorstep and not bother."

"And be unable to enter your own office?" he supplied.

"Didn't I tell you to shut it?"

He simply grinned in reply and lifted the basket, with everything in it, somehow managing to balance it perfectly. What's worse, he also managed to pretend he didn't hear her muttering about showing off. As if she didn't know by now he could hear it just fine.

III

"You still need to find proper names for them," Henry observed casually as he fastened the seatbelt. Vicki scowled from the backseat. It wasn't that he didn't offer her the front passenger seat but just imagining the results of the Terrible Trio getting loose on the leather seats of the Jaguar was enough to convince her someone needed to supervise them in the back.

"What's wrong with the Fluffs?"

"The three a.m. rule, among other things."

"The _what_ rule?"

"Don't call them anything you wouldn't feel comfortable calling out at three a.m. should they escape or get into trouble. And keep in mind, the more they grow, the more ridiculous such names will sound."

She considered that.

"When was the last time you heard me caring what and when I say?"

He nodded, "You might have a point. Still, would you want to be the person associated with calling three sizeable dogs _Fluffs_?"

"I'm not keeping all three. I thought we agreed on that point."

"Meaning that you would be stuck with a large dog called Red, Yellow or Blue Fluff with a quite long story to explain the reason behind such a bizarre name choice. I assume you consider it a good alternative?"

"They work as a team. I like the theme there."

"Then maybe we could look for other thematic names before they get too used to the Fluffs and refuse to respond to anything else?"

"Fine, whatever. What do you have in mind?"

"They are your dogs." She cleared her throat. "You can't argue that point, not before you find a home for the other two."

"You are the one saying you don't like 'the Fluffs'."

"I don't think you will like it either after a month or two."

"If you say so. What do you think of when you hear 'the personification of trouble'?"

"Present company excluded, I take it?"

"Watch it, the fact that you're driving won't protect you forever."

"I would think that you randomly threatening a vampire only validates my point."

"I wouldn't call it random. That was very much provoked."

He chuckled. "In any case, what do you think about Julius, Marcus and Pompeius?"

"I think that it wasn't only blood you've been drinking today. Are you sure you should be driving?"

He shook his head in obvious amusement. "I hate to disappoint you, but my body neutralises poisons immediately and doesn't process the alcohol. I couldn't get drunk even if I tried. And back to the topic at hand, you were the one to inspire that one, actually, when you made me think about Caesar."

"You won't let me forget that thirteen thing, will you?"

"Don't worry. I have no intention of tormenting you with the fact that you started to assume superstitions are more likely than, say impact of the weather and low atmospheric pressure when it comes to affecting your day. Well, not much." Vicki couldn't see very well in the dim light inside the car but judging by his tone she would bet he was smirking. "And it was _you_ who wanted something thematic for their names."

"Well, I'll give you that, the first triumvirate does have some ring to it when it comes to the names for the little trio plotting to make everybody's lives miserable. But I'm not sure I can picture myself keeping a straight face calling them that."

"Who says you'd be required to? Besides, I'm not sure you'd keep a straight face with 'the Fluffs' either. Not to mention, I'd imagine as soon as they have proper names, the shortened forms will be developed."

"Which, of course, will not sound ridiculous at all."

"Ah, but then, should someone ask, you could easily expand on the name, looking as if it should have been obvious from the start."

Vicki didn't respond immediately. Henry did have a point. Which meant that either he knew her all too well or she was too tired to see the holes in his reasoning. Probably the first one, damned vampire.

"So, Jul, Mark and Pom? Could be worse, I guess," she allowed eventually.

"Of course it could. You could name them after the Moirae, leaving the poor creatures gender-confused."

Vicki hoped he looked into the rear view mirror and saw her glare. He was definitely enjoying this too much.

III

It took some doing but after a while the Not-Fluffs-Anymore were corralled in the corner of the room with all their equipment and toys. She wondered idly if it was her wellbeing or his own that Henry had in mind advising her to take away the squeaky toys and return them in the morning when she needed the little horrors busy. Well, he might not have used the exact expression but it was pretty obvious they would fit the description as soon as they were armed with the noise-making equipment.

Still, right now the trio looked surprisingly peaceful as they moved around their basket, brawling sleepily over who would get to sleep on top of everyone else. So far it seemed the former Red Fluff was in the lead.

"So which is which anyway?" she voiced as the thought registered.

"I was under impression that the different collars were bought exactly for the purpose of telling them apart."

"Well, yeah. But I meant which is supposed to be called what? It was easier with the colour-related names."

"If you say so. I propose the red-collared gets Julius Caesar. It was the colour of a dictator."

"Right. Bit morbid, all things considered, though."

"Only if you purposefully look for the association. Red normally went with the ruler."

"Okay, we could go with that. What about the Yellow Fluff?"

"In heraldic distinction yellow would stand for gold. How about we go with it representing Marcus Crassus? He did finance Caesar after all."

"If that's not convoluted, I don't know what is."

"Do you have a better idea?"

Vicki frowned, then looked at the puppies. Jul was still winning. "Marcus for the yellow it is. I suppose that makes the Blue Fluff Pompeius?"

"It would seem so, yes."

"Right. So now I have three miscreant mutts named after dead ancient Romans. How fun."

"If it's any consolation, there is some hope that the 'miscreant' part will get better in time."

"Yeah, makes all the difference, doesn't it?"

III

"Vicki?"

Henry's voice dragged her attention from the movie they were watching. Not that it was particularly riveting. Even though they started watching it well after the beginning, the plot still wasn't hard to figure out, asinine as it was. She had a strange feeling that the insistence to stick with a detective story was Henry's payback for the _Queen of the Damned_ from last week.

But at least in the latter's case the action was kind of good. And, if she wasn't much mistaken, more accurate when it came to vampires than the current movie was when it came to the police. Not an easy feat, considering people generally assumed vampires weren't even real.

"Yeah?" she scowled in his general direction.

"I have good news for you," he grinned in response.

"You decided we should switch to something watchable?"

"Better."

"There is something better? Wow."

"Midnight just passed. It's no longer the thirteenth."

"Oh, c'mon. How long does it take to live this down?"

"Still, you admitted you had a bad day and it's officially over now."

"Well, there is that," she allowed.

"And what's more, the canine triumvirate is fast asleep now."

"That's good, isn't it?" she asked confusedly.

"Oh yes, very good I'd say."

Only when she saw his grin a moment before he kissed her, switching off the TV, did she recall what he might be referring to. Still, judging by his determination so far, he was likely to be insistent and she really didn't have energy to put up much of a fight...

She blinked. She couldn't really have just thought that, could she?

Before she could properly figure it out, he already managed to carry her to her bed.

"Henry, I really don't think..." she started only to be interrupted when he stole another kiss.

"Then don't think. Just relax," he murmured gently caressing her side. "Let me help you feel better."

She really should tell him to stop, she decided. And she would, in a second. As soon as it stopped feeling like this...

III

Vicki woke up to the noise of three little dogs bored out of their minds. She sat up in bed, rubbing her temples and trying to make sense of the whole commotion before reality reasserted itself. And, unsurprisingly, the memories of last night came with it.

On the whole, she supposed, it served Henry right that she fell asleep somewhere in the middle of what was starting to be a pretty interesting 'comforting' session. Well, if one got past the disgusting part of it all. That would teach him not to be this sure of himself.

Though, to be fair, she could remember him gently waking her to let her know he was leaving (and let her take care of the basic bathroom routine though that part pretty much went unsaid) and not holding the falling asleep against her. On the contrary, he was very understanding, assuring her that he realised how letting go of the tension of the day resulted in extreme exhaustion and that there was nothing that...

Wait, did she really promise to try again some other time? She wouldn't have done something that stupid, would she? No matter how nice it felt last night. Or how attentive Henry was. Or how it seemed his self-assuredness was not completely groundless. Or... _never mind_.

Still, she should have known better. She _would_ have known better. Wouldn't she?

A deep breath later she calmed down a bit. Of course she would. The last part had to be just some lingering bit of her dream jumbled into the hazy memories from before going to sleep. Obviously. Because she never would have gone along with anything like that. Not this easily at the very least.

The more insistent yip-barking reminded her that the trio probably wouldn't stop without being given some breakfast and that she should probably take care of it before she would be forced to start the day with a splitting headache.

She reached to the nightstand for her glasses and found a folded note.

_I'll hold you to your word. Until next time. Sleep Well. H._

She closed her eyes. Oh. Bloody. Hell.

III

With the Pups of Horror finally defused by means of food, walk and toys, Vicki finally had time to regroup.

Getting to her office would inevitably prove to be a challenge again. Well, unless she walked carrying the basket and the toys with the Fluffs-Turned-The-Triumvirate stumbling along on their short fluffy paws. With some luck she would make it there oh, about noon, she'd say.

She sighed. Taxi it was. After all, it shouldn't be too hard for a detective-turned-PI to find the number for the taxi the pet shop guy called for her today. At least she hoped it wouldn't be.

It wasn't until she was half-way through selecting the number that she remembered that it was Saturday and that she had no work she needed to take care of. Still, the question of how to get to and from the office with the trio remained, if on a less urgent level.

Shaking her head, she decided she needed to get a separate basket for the office so she wouldn't need to carry it around. And bowls. Possibly another pack of treats. At least they had enough toys to distribute between the two locations without them complaining. Well, hopefully.

Looking though the window she watched small bubbles form in the puddles on the streets as it continued to rain. She dimly recalled she saw a dog shampoo in the shop yesterday. She probably should have thought to buy it.

She wondered how Henry would like to help her with the shopping. No way she was carrying all the stuff on her own. Again.

III

"Hello?"

"Hi, Coreen. How are you feeling today?"

"Vicki!" the girl perked up a bit. Or possibly got her act together, it was hard to say which. "A bit better I guess. Though let me tell you, trying to take a shower with the cast wasn't fun. I still have bruises to show for it."

Closing her eyes, Vicki silently cursed the fates or whatever it was that was responsible for the situation.

"Do you think you will need help?" she asked.

"Nah, I figured it out. Well, kind of. It's all about this trick with a chair next to the tub and taking a bath instead. Nah, putting on underwear is more of a problem, honestly. I'd have it all stretched beyond belief by the time they take this thing off."

How did she end up discussing underwear again? Vicki wondered. Ah, that's right. She made the mistake of not redirecting the conversation soon enough. Figures.

"Won't that just give you an excuse to do some therapeutic shopping later?" she quipped.

"You know what, you might be right. I didn't really think of it that way. Thanks! You're the best."

Silently, the PI wondered how come she was elected the best for suggesting shopping and what were the first signs that told a person they woke up in a parallel universe or, better yet, twilight zone.

"Glad you think so."

"And it's not like I won't need some exercise anyway once I'm doing the physical therapy."

"Yeah, I suppose. That reminds me, Henry will visit you in the evening. He has this doctor friend he would like to show your results to. Is that alright?"

"I guess. I'll have to remember not to knock myself out with the painkillers after dinner then. As long as _he_ doesn't scare my neighbours."

"Nah, why would he do that?" She smirked. "I mean, if someone ticks him off, why would he stop at scaring them?"

The Goth snorted. "Vicki!"

"What? No, really, if I were you, I would start wondering what exactly your neighbours are hiding if they panic just because a cop politely asks them to turn the music down a bit."

"Oh, right, polite. That must be some definition only you and Mike share."

"Nah, they teach us that at the academy so that we can confuse the civvies."

"Figures. So how is everything at work? Anything I need to do for you?"

"Not really. Weekend, remember? Though I'll have surveillance on Monday night so you might expect some transcripts to do on Tuesday."

"Got it." The girl sighed. "One day in and I'm already sick of not being able to move around."

"I'll bet you that when you start with the rehab you'll be cursing needing to move with your every breath."

"I don't know. I'll be bored out of my mind by then. I'll probably do anything to get on my feet."

"You probably will. But nobody says it will feel nice."

"Gee, you should professionally cheer people up."

Vicki smirked. "But look on the bright side. After you're a bit better, you will get a nice workout when you're walking your dog."

"I don't _have_ a dog, Vicki."

"You do now."

"I _what_?"

"Just tell me, if you had a choice between blue and yellow, which would you choose?"

"If I... Vicki, are you feeling alright?" there actually was a hint of concern in the Goth's voice.

"Of course I am. But I guess I could just as well let you pick in person. Would you mind if I dropped in and brought you some lunch?"

"Just why do I have a bad feeling about it?" At this point one of the Terrible Trio apparently lost his patience and put one of the accursed squeaky toys to use. Vicki glanced at the basket. She was pretty sure it was Jul. He had the most innocent look about him after all. "And what was _that_?"

"Now, you wouldn't want to ruin the surprise, would you? Any preferences for lunch?"

"Vicki!"

"Is that a no then?"

III

"Just so we are clear on the subject," Coreen said, cuddling Pom. Seeing the girl in a blue jumper with a heart splashed in the middle and sweatpants looking three sizes too big it would be extremely hard to guess she could ever have anything to do with a gothic look. "I'll need to check if my landlord is okay with it, though the couple downstairs has a dachshund, I think, so that should be fine. And I'll be able to take him to work."

"As long as you watch over both of them if I need to do some fieldwork," Vicki cut in.

"As long as I babysit the two when needed, right. And the vet's bill will be covered by the office expenses in seventy five..."

"Sixty."

"Sixty percent."

"And we make a joint order for their food online so we get a discount."

"But you'll need to take care of that. Being my assistant and all."

"Right. And they both stay with you until I'm able to take care of him?"

"Kind of obvious, don't you think?"

"Okay, so on those terms, I'll take one in."

"Picked which one yet?"

"Well," the girl trailed off looking between Jul and Mark brawling over a chew toy and the sleepy bundle on her lap. "The blue-collared one is kind of sweet. I think he likes me."

That, or the sneaky thing was employing some long-term strategy to stay around and help keep her life miserable. Somehow Vicki felt that 'triumvirate' was oddly accurate.

"If you say so."

"Oh, he is." The girl looked at the puppy and cooed, "You are cute, aren't you?" The little horror yawned theatrically making her grin. "What was his name again?"

"Pompeius. Pom for short."

"Pompeius?"

"Blame Henry."

"Um, actually, it's kind of nice. Very distinguished."

"If you say so." Suddenly an idea occurred to her. "You know what, I think I'll be going. I'll drop by tomorrow if you like..."

"With Pompeius?"

Oh, for all that's holy, she was actually _using_ the full name. Vicki rolled her eyes. "With _Pompeius_. But I need to check something now."

"So you _do_ have some case?"

"Nah, not really." She smirked evilly. "But I need to check when exactly Mike's nephew's birthday is."

Coreen scrutinised her for a moment. "You know, you're kind of scary when you're doing that."

"Good."

III

It was an hour later when she was back in her apartment, with the Trio munching on some treats to ensure some peace and quiet, that she picked up her phone.

"Hi, Mike. I was wondering. How would you like a way to become the coolest uncle ever and get out of Molly's Sunday dinners for the foreseeable future?"

"Vic? What the hell are you talking about?"

She smirked to herself. The response was much more positive than she expected. Perhaps it _would_ work after all?

THE END

Reviews will be appreciated.


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